


Dearest Friend

by arcadevia



Series: Arcade’s Instagram Fics [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Reunions, Flashbacks, Fluff, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pining Lance (Voltron), Recreational Drug Use, Skateboarding, Thanksgiving, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, is it making out?, they’re implied as skater boys lol, yes probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadevia/pseuds/arcadevia
Summary: Lots of memories. Some of which leave him beet red in the face. ImaginecuddlingKeith now during a nap. They don’t have drool on their thumbs or squishy baby cheeks anymore— sadly, because all these old photos from the garage prove they’re worth missing on such a cute little kid like Keith.Forget puddles of shallow flashbacks that splash only vague images of a life unknown. They had a whole damnlakeas a history, and remembering Keith now makes him wonder how he could ever forget.[Complete fic here, not a preview]
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Arcade’s Instagram Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065515
Comments: 6
Kudos: 81





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter One (alternatively, part of part 1 on ig). Chapter two is the rest of the work <3

When Lance’s mom first met Keith, or at least saw a picture of him, she’d curiously said _“He looks familiar…”_

Lance knew of her ongoing streak in being dramatic, just the way he was sometimes— _sometimes_. So he opted for simply saying _“Must be just one of those faces”_ , as if she’d probably run into him a few months prior during a run to the Target he’d used to work at. Perhaps his friend was another one of the employees subjected to endless McClain rambling until the conveyor belt ran empty and it was about time Rosa took her packed groceries back to the van instead of talking about random family drama.

He’d wondered what kind of gossip Keith unknowingly heard about his aunts and uncles, whether Thanksgiving or Christmas was about to be ruined…

Turns out, they weren’t. Thanksgiving, at least. And they’re not ones to celebrate so passionately and patriotically as the uh, _interesting_ neighbors across the street that everyone else shares the same mutually off-put side-eyes with. But family time is family time, and it’s always the reason his mom gives anyway. She doesn’t know much about Thanksgiving since immigrating, and with that trademark, unbothered McClain energy, she’d brushed aside all trivia and traditions not picked up on already.

 _“Just be thankful today,”_ she’d wave off while they set the table. _“Especially for the_ **_seasoned_ ** _food.”_ She was totally right, Lance remembers he’d cringe back in elementary school at all the flavorless options on the days his lunch wasn’t packed. The only thing saving him from both a decaying tongue and going hungry till afternoon was one of his classmates, who’d share his own selection of snacks and meals Lance’s wide, youthful eyes had never met before.

And apparently, his mom knows even _more_ about those days despite him confidently dismissing her the first time.

 _“You’re Krolia’s kid!”_ she’d cried after a gasp so heavy Lance had flinched from the sudden change in behavior.

Keith stood just inside the doorway alongside Lance, clad in threadbare jeans and a dark band t-shirt that almost fit snug in certain places from firm, _college_ boy muscle. _Kid_ , Lance had thought humorously, _he’s almost a man now_. At least that’s all he’s ever seen Keith as in the time he’s known him as a friend.

Wrong— _apparently_. Because after his mama’s revelation was endless stories spewing excitedly from her mouth like an unhinged faucet.

_Best friends! — Same department as your father — play dates — kindergarten — birthday — naps —_

So many memories of Keith just… uncovered. And it wasn’t like they weren’t there before, Lance just vaguely recalled _him_ : a boy that felt like home but was far from it now and perhaps he’d never see again. _Keith_ was the one he’d share his Winne the Pooh stuffie with during nap time, _Keith_ was the one who got gum in Lance’s nest of ringleted hair, the start to his ongoing preference for a shorter haircut after all. Keith was the one who’d throw toy cars when he was upset for god knows what reason, and then cry when one hit Lance in the lip. He still has a scar from it now but just tells people _“My brother and I were playing and I fell or something”_ , because Marco and Luis were all he knew as far as being a young boy until Keith’s fateful encounter with his mom.

Lots of memories. Some of which leave him beet red in the face. Imagine _cuddling_ Keith now during a nap. They don’t have drool on their thumbs or squishy baby cheeks anymore— sadly, because all these old photos from the garage prove they’re worth missing on such a cute little kid like Keith. There’s photographs of them standing together with dewy cheeks from fresh tears after another little roughhousing accident. They cradle cups of water close to their own mouths to sooth away the sobs and Lance’s fingers twirl through the ends of his friend’s hair like nearly every other damn picture, a freakin’ coping mechanism or something.

Forget puddles of shallow flashbacks that splash only vague images of a life unknown. They had a whole damn _lake_ as a history, and remembering Keith now makes him wonder how he could ever forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was kind of hoping you’d ask that,” Keith murmurs, and the low tone makes Lance’s heart squirm.
> 
> (Lance makes an offer.)

It’s alright now, though, since fate decided it was downright exasperated at this point and finally shoved them back together the day Lance walked into Target, stoned out of his mind, just to be met with the human embodiment of the grinch as his cashier for the late night snackies run.

_“I almost didn’t recognize you without the stench of weed,”_ Keith had said later on, early in their acquaintanceship, and they laugh over it now because Lance read such a remark as bitter meanwhile that was just… Keith’s kind of humor. The boy needs to work on his snark if he wants to make friends, that’s what Lance always tells him.

Seems like they’ve simply defied all odds to get to this point. In the McClain kitchen after dinner for their spontaneous “family reunion” which he’d love to call thanksgiving had they not been one day too late. Too many inconveniences popping up last night, it’s better than nothing now, though.

And Keith seemed to get along with them _great_ , mostly without his intention, it seems. The kids would scramble to his sides on the couch or cling to his legs or offer spoons of their dessert to Keith who’d simply give this awkward, cute sort of smile and wave it away.

He looked downright _stressed_ earlier, though. Just stiff with anxiety from this and Lance really can’t blame him since such a big family can seem so intimidating if there’s only a plate of food separating you and a cluster of people you don’t even know the names of.

Any other person would probably be like _“It’s fine, we could just sit in another room if you want.”_ Buuut, if the way they met is anything to go by, Lance’s solution for things starts with giggles and ends with red-tinged eyes.

“Dude, open your fuckin—“

“I’m _tryingg_ ,” Keith groans, but their mutual frustration just blends into another fit of laughter, and Lance is left holding onto Keith’s shoulders with every ounce of strength he has left in these empty limbs. He feels like a lagging YouTube video, a really fucking funny video if it means growing teary eyed from wheezes under a dizzy blanket of stars.

They finally manage the eye drops, even when Keith’s warped expression from holding them open for so long felt like the most hilarious thing Lance had seen in a decade.

When Keith looks back down, he meets Lance’s gaze and blinks a few times. Of course to settle the liquid but… it felt like more, and in that moment, only a step away from sobriety was enough for Lance to know he wants those eyes on him like this all the time. He’s wanted that for a while now.

They make it back to the house after their little “walk”, Lance isn’t too worried since he’s almost betting his relatives are convinced they’d just made out in the car or something. Which is, uh, _quite_ the theory and definitely _not_ (unfortunately) what happened. But it’s better than breaking the law, right? Only Tía Mari is a homophobe and no one likes her anyway… 

“What the f— _hell_ are you eating?” Keith says incredulously from across the kitchen, where he packs caramel candies into his hoodie pockets with one hand and plops gummy bears into his mouth with the other. You see, Lance was prepared for this with the snacks, he knew their time for getting goofed would come…

Lance sprays another spurt of whipped cream on his spoon of gravy, his shoulders shaking from quiet laughter. “It’s actually pretty good,” he says with a dramatic arched brow.

Keith looks like he wants to punch him but is too happy to do such a thing. How lucky of Lance. “Weirdo…”

“ _Mhmmmm_.”

The rest of the family is either in quiet bedrooms, lulling babies to sleep with steady rocking while the adults gossip about something from a decade ago, or scrambling around the backyard for the kids last burst of energy to eventually tire them out and make the car ride home more bearable. His parents gave them both a ride since it’s been raining out earlier, and apparently getting wet from the drizzle while riding on Keith’s motorbike is somehow both impolite and illegal.

“You remember that one time…” he hears Keith’s voice beyond his own fuzzy thoughts. The boy looks soft now, there’s no other way to describe it. His hair all… _nice_ and the curve of his cheeks glowing under the light. Lance just wants to drag him to the couch and curl up together. Good ol’ throwback to those nap times, yeah?

“That one time…” Lance eggs on. “What, the one time you ate shit at the skatepark?”

“Shut up, not that.” Keith rolls his eyes. “I don’t know if this was with you but I can’t think of anyone else it could be.”

He looks up and Lance lifts his brow curiously as he sprays more whipped cream on his spoon. The squawks and chattering outside muffle together with the rest of his thoughts in a strange cross between internal and external reality. Keith swallows his gummy bear.

“I remember when I was like, six or seven, me and this friend or something were in a kitchen and we’d…” Keith glances around, almost as if trying to find clarity amongst the kitchen’s clutter. “We were on opposite sides of the kitchen, like— like _this_ ,” he motions between them both, “and there was some game we’d play where we would run into the center and…”

_“Muah!” Lance says when his lips smack against his friend’s in a short, exciteful smooch. His nose ached from smooshing against the other’s, yet it did little to tame all their giggles that followed after. The boy’s cheeks were plush and pinched from Lance’s clamped hands, and his pale skin bloomed pink shortly after. Giggling. Lots of it._

_“Again again!”_ _they scrambled back to the corners of the cupboards._

“Kiss,” Lance finishes— but it sounds more like _kerrhr_ when he’s speaking through a mouthful of whipped cream. He swallows. “ _Kiss._ ”

Keith’s eyes widen a fraction. “So you remember?” he asks, and Lance would like to say that face almost looks _hopeful_. Exactly the kind of thing that makes him cross his arms and smile now.

“I guess I do. Wasn’t that when some girl was like _‘ew that’s gay you can’t do that’_ or something?”

Keith chuckles. “Yeah, Taylor. She was my babysitter, or— _ours_ I guess, since we were here.”

“God what a bitch…”

“Yeah she’s in prison now.”

Lance laughs so hard he coughs whipped cream into his sleeve and almost scares _himself_ from how loud the sudden burst was. “Oh my god, what happened?”

But Keith just shrugs like it’s the most normal thing ever, although still wearing a faint amused smile at Lance’s reaction. “It’s a long story,” he says, as simple as that. “Anyway, I thought this kitchen looked familiar…” He fumbles with another wrapped candy. “Guess I was right.” 

And before he knows it, Lance finds himself asking—

“Wanna do it again?”

Keith’s brows furrow. “Do what again? Like—?”

This is stupid. Really, really stupid but c’mon he can just blame it on being high if things go wrong, or perhaps pass it as a joke. Which it _is_ a joke anyway, right? Because otherwise… Why would he even ask?

“Like… kiss,” he says.

Keith’s jaw hangs a little looser, his lips agape and eyes veiled in pink smoky wonder. Lance hopes he’s just imagining that part, otherwise those eye drops just weren’t enough and their way out the house is gonna be with bowed heads and a downcast, paranoid stare.

“Oh,” Keith says. “I mean… yeah. Yeah we can.”

“We can,” Lance says casually, is already setting aside the whipped cream and his spoon while licking away the residue on his lips. “Are we gonna do it?”

Keith tucks a few strands of hair behind his ear: another anxious habit. “What, like, right now?”

“Yes right now.”

_Just keep it light, Lance. Just keep smiling and make it seem kinda funny enough to just play it off if he disagrees so this won’t be a problem later on and you won’t stay up all night feeling like shi—_

“Yeah.”

_Oooooohhhh boy._

Lance nods and rubs his hands together thoughtfully. “Alright, okay. Cool. Nice—“ _god just do it before you back out_ — “So I guess we just meet in the middle right?”

His heartbeat is picking up. Isn’t weed supposed to calm you down? Ya know, _mellow_ you out and not make you feel like an egg balanced on a pogo stick gone apeshit or anything? Just gotta pretend he’s six again. None the wiser and purely innocent and just giving his friend a nice smooch because they’re _friends,_ of course. Nothing like kissing your homie in the middle of the kitchen after a family reunion where everyone already thinks you’re dating…

Keith doesn’t take any time to respond. In fact, he goes ahead and starts making his way to the center, as if Lance’s question was a cue rather than a stall for time. But this is it, Keith’s walking fast and Lance hurriedly leans into this casual sort of running tip-toe jig. There’s hands rising up to face level as he grows closer, his friend seems way too focused for this to be a game, and when he finally lands his hands on the other’s hips he can only think—

_This isn’t a game to him._

But also—

_This isn’t a game to_ **_Keith_ ** _._

Because while Lance is prepared for a peck, a nice, modest _smooch_ , Keith’s lips slide against his as if they’d done so a million times, and they drag Lance back in as if they’d done _that_ a million more.

He tastes the familiarity of it, savory caramel across the seam of Keith’s mouth that he’s all but prompted to have his way with when hands furl through his hair the more their kiss leaves Keith breathless and dazed for the next. There’s no rhythm to create, just a hurried shot in the dark at reading the way Keith reacts to those pleasant smacks following the barest of twists. Lance would be smiling about having absolutely no doubt how focused his friend is, with brows furrowed over clenched eyes, except the image is way too hot to get a kick out of in the moment and only makes him trip over his own heavy breath.

Something more profound is already beginning to stir between them, and he clearly can’t get enough of it. He returns the same enthusiasm and shuts his eyes just as tightly while Keith’s instincts soak him up like a sponge the longer they linger here. He feels like he’s swallowing bundles of feelings and _confessions_ that aren’t his yet still invigorating nonetheless. It makes him weak in the knees, cling tighter to the point where his hands furl themselves into the fabric of Keith’s hoodie at the small of his back. Years and years just for that simple _—mwuah!_ — is almost laughable, and the downpour of reality just has him stumbling back into the nearest counter.

So thank god that doors exist, and talkative family members who practically declare their presence from how loudly they’re approaching. Lance has half a mind to take note of the voices still muffled past the walls rather than nearby, meanwhile Keith _licks_ into his goddamn mouth as if that gravy-whipped cream combo tasted better than he’d expected. Which honestly, who the heck even _cares_ if it means getting his world completely rocked in a matter of seconds.

He can’t find it in him to speak. Just cry out all of these declarations of _“Me too”, “You mean just as much to me”, “Please let this mean something”_. Otherwise he’s drowning for nothing but a lucky experience with the object of his affection.

They slow down. The all-consuming feeling turns into manageable kisses, a handful of times Lance tells himself _“Okay this is the last one”_ , only for Keith’s lips to feel just as soft and even more inviting than before. He leans in for the umpteenth time but—

Keith holds him there, by the hand on the curve between Lance’s neck and shoulder, and the other hand along his jaw. Lance holds onto the hoodie still and keeps the boy close (not like he’s going anywhere) while they catch their breaths. He’s forgotten how powerful these kinds of moments could be, but then again, he’s never met a Keith, _this_ _one_ in particular. Let alone kiss one.

Holy hell is it _nice_ though.

Their foreheads bump together, and Keith’s eyes finally flick up to his through long dark lashes and strands of bangs framing such a _stupidly_ handsome face he’s almost mad right now.

“I was kind of hoping you’d ask that,” Keith murmurs, and the low tone makes Lance’s heart squirm. “If we could kiss again…”

Lance chuckles. Or at least he tries to, but it’s just one weak whine and utterly embarrassing. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Good thing I did.”

“Maybe we could do it more often or something.”

With anyone else, Lance would totally think that was just some feigned innocence for the sake of making him laugh. But with Keith it’s genuine, he says it quietly, shy of all the possibilities that come from a whispered moment between them.

“And maybe in another kitchen,” he says while biting back a smile, but it’s getting the best of him. “Or we don’t have to be in a kitchen at all.” He bumps their noses, then finally lets his hands move up to Keith’s and cover them like grounding blankets.

Keith takes a deep breath, Lance licks his lips and hopes for the best. The thing is, Keith gets real existential when he’s high anyway, so Lance could say he’s _almost_ used to close proximity like this.

_“Look at me,” Lance murmurs, and gently presses his palm into Keith’s cheek. His face is pale and the boy’s breath quivers across his skin._

_“You’re safe,” he says. He feels like he’s choking through this, with guilt gnawing up his throat and threatening to spill over. Tripping has never been good on him, and watching Keith fall into a similar spiral is terrible to watch._

_“We’ll lay right here.” Every breath gets slower, his hand roves down Keith’s arm to take the hand and press it against his heart. “Gonna fall asleep with me.” He cards his fingers through Keith’s hair, and the storm clouds of fear in the other’s eyes turn into a mellow grey. He watches Lance with trust, even as the rain pelts loudly against the windows outside and the rest of their crew parties on with rowdy spirits past the bedroom door._

_“And when we wake up, everything will be okay.”_

Keith looks at him now the same way he did before.

“And it doesn’t have to be a game?” he asks hopefully.

Lance wishes he were lying when he says this kiss may as well be the only reason his feelings have finally hit him right between the eyes and he can _understand_ what the hell they mean to begin with. Before, it was just fleeting suspicions. It was only when he’d feel pride swell in his chest after landing a trick at the skatepark and immediately turning to check if Keith had seen. Or when the rest of the skate crew would call out _“Aye where’s the boyfriend today?”_ anytime Lance turned up and Keith wasn’t there. Or when he’d notice Keith still wearing their friendship bracelet even after a year and really, he shouldn’t expect anything less at this point but it still makes him giddy.

“No games,” Lance says, then stands straighter and lets his mouth stretch into his usual trademark smirk. “Unless you want those too.”

“I just wanna kiss you,” Keith says. “And go out n stuff.” He looks at Lance like a kid quietly pleading for candy, waiting with a cupped hand for a little piece to plop inside except Keith stands here doe-eyed with patient lips.

Lance laughs. “Then kiss me.”

And that was the start of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed <3
> 
> Read works & get updates in advance on [my instagram](https://www.instagram.com/arcadevia/). This fic was also under the [#klancebffs](https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/klancebffs/) tag.


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